


A Tale of Twelve Nights

by RhymePhile



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst and Humor, Banter, Deathfic, M/M, Romance, Sexual Tension, Violence, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-21
Updated: 2005-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-10 14:57:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhymePhile/pseuds/RhymePhile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Krycek has information about Scully, and Mulder teams up with him to get it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tale of Twelve Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Shakespeare Challenge on the M/K Lyric Wheel, August, 2005. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you, trippingly on the tongue! The lines from a Shakespeare play must be used within the story, and special thanks to Marcia Elena for the inspiration from Act II, Scene III of "Twelfth Night."

  
\-- Wednesday, August 10 --

Mulder grunted in frustration, fumbling to shut the office door behind him while awkwardly balancing the large pile of mail in his arms. Scully looked up casually from behind Mulder's desk and grinned at the display.

"Your fan mail again, huh?"

Mulder navigated a path through his typically unkempt workspace and tossed the envelopes and packages onto his desk.

"Not all of it is mine," he huffed.

Scully sorted through the heap of her plastic-wrapped medical journals and pulled out one that caught her eye.

Mulder tossed her a magazine. "Really, Scully, 'Skeptical Inquirer'? Do you subscribe to the 'Why I Waste My Time With Fox Mulder Magazine' too?"

"Yes, but it's simply called 'Spooky'."

Mulder wrinkled his nose at the bad joke and began scanning the mail addressed to him when a legal-sized envelope drew his attention. He sat down in Scully's usual spot and tore it open.

It was hand-written in a neat, non-flourished script that Mulder recognized immediately.

"Hey," it began, "I know you recognize my handwriting, but don't be a shit and throw this out before you read what I have to say."

Mulder paused and looked up, wondering if Scully could feel the irritation and anger radiating from his body. She appeared engrossed in her magazine, so Mulder continued.

"I bet you just got pissed seeing that sentence, huh?" the note said.

Mulder made an annoyed sound and slapped the letter against his knee.

"Something wrong?" she asked curiously.

"Overdue bill," he lied.

"See what happens when you forget to return the porn to the video store?" she quipped, burying her nose back in her article.

He lifted an eyebrow at her and went back to the letter.

"I have something I need to discuss with you about information I've received. It's regarding a certain redhead we both know. And before you dismiss this as some kind of ploy, believe me when I say you're going to want to hear the story I have to tell. I'm putting myself in danger to give you this information, so at least do me the courtesy of showing up. Come alone. I'll be at..."

Mulder read the address of a local downtown bar, along with a time Alex Krycek wanted to meet, and sighed deeply.

* * *

It was already Happy Hour by the time Mulder got downtown, so it took him a little longer than usual to get to the place. It was a small hole-in-the-wall with a few booths and an old-fashioned bar complete with sticky top and cigarette burns.

The burly bartender gave him a decidedly feral once-over when he approached to order a Jack and Coke, and Mulder wondered if the man could tell he was an FBI agent. His uneasiness continued as he made his way through the darkened bar to where the booths were, feeling about ten pairs of eyes tracing his every move.

He finally slid into the booth opposite Krycek, casting a nervous glance at his surroundings and rethinking the letter's "come alone" request.

"I guess all these men are here to make sure I don't take out my gun and shoot you, right?" Mulder hissed.

"Um, no, although I doubt you'd want to go firing your service weapon in the middle of a perfectly enjoyable Happy Hour," Krycek responded.

"Right, like I'm supposed to believe that all those men that were just staring at me don't work for you?"

Krycek grinned. "I'm not some kind of evil mastermind with my own henchmen, Mulder."

"No? Then why..."

"Because we're in a gay bar, Mr. Astute Profiler."

Mulder frowned and glanced around, finally noticing the abundance of men that were sitting close to one another, some touching, others holding hands.

"And who wouldn't want to stare at you?" Krycek asked, taking a sip of his beer. "You're like a walking wet dream."

"Thanks for *that* visual," he groaned. "But why are we meeting here?"

Krycek gestured at two men locked in an embrace. "Because I like the scenery."

"You..."

At Mulder's blank look, Krycek said, "Need time to do the math? Carry the one? Tab A into Slot B? Go ahead, I'll wait. I'd draw you a diagram, but I only have one hand, and that's holding my beer."

Krycek sat back and wrapped his lips around the longneck he was drinking, giving it an exaggerated lick with his tongue. He laughed at the gasp Mulder gave.

"Is that what you wanted to tell me?" Mulder asked incredulously.

"Not specifically, but it's part of the reason why I asked you to come. I need to get some things off my chest."

"What does this have to do with Scully?"

"You probably don't believe this," Krycek sighed, toying with his beer label, "but I wasn't a part of what happened to Scully. I got stuck in the middle of something that I never agreed to, and after it spiraled out of control I couldn't tell you I was sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"For everything she went through -- for everything you went through, too. And when I discovered plans that would do her more harm, I made my choice."

"What the hell are you talking about, Krycek? Who's going to hurt Scully? What did you choose?"

"I chose you," he answered simply. "Because if I try and put a stop to what these evil bastards are doing and it doesn't go my way, chances are this will be the only time I have to tell you what...well, what you've always meant to me, Mulder."

Krycek took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly, as if to steady his nerves for the inevitable Mulder comeback. He pressed the beer bottle to his lips again for another swig.

Mulder watched his movements, noticing Krycek had cast his eyes downward.

"Actually," Mulder said, "maybe clearing the air between us would be a good idea."

Krycek looked up in surprise.

"But first, tell me about Scully."

Krycek nodded. "Through various...channels...I've discovered a plan that's been set in motion regarding the implants placed in the necks of test subjects. I assume you're aware of their main design, which was to track those who had been experimented on, right?"

"Yeah, as far as Scully and I could tell they were used as an identification marker of some sort."

"Right, well, I've learned of a group of doctors who have their own agenda for the implants, and they've decided to move the timetable up."

Mulder frowned. "What kind of agenda?"

"Without anyone else knowing, it seems a small cadre of anti-collaborationist doctors tweaked the implants to act like homing beacons."

"Homing beacons...to where?"

"If the doctors complete the software they're working on, this group of men will have the ability to flip a switch and summon en masse anyone who has an implant."

"And do what to them, Alex?"

"I don't know, Mulder. I'm still working on that, although you can be sure it's nothing good."

"It doesn't give me much to go on," Mulder sighed.

"It's all I could find out right now, but I thought you should know. And it's given me a chance to talk about us."

"There's an us?"

"Oh yeah, Mulder. You just haven't noticed it."

"Well..."

It was Krycek's turn to offer a blank look.

"I was a little more aware of you than you might have guessed," Mulder admitted sheepishly, sipping his Jack and Coke.

"Really."

"It's more obvious when there's only one pair of eyes on you instead of ten," said Mulder, casting a glance around the bar.

"I was obvious?"

Mulder rolled his eyes. "Krycek...evil subterfuge, covert actions, double-double-crossing members of secret organizations, wearing leather like nobody's business, those you can do well. Acting coy while checking out my package isn't one of them."

Krycek blushed slightly. "You can't really blame me for that, y'know. Red is your color."

"And remember the pool was cold."

"Well," Krycek said, scratching his stubbly cheek and cocking his head at Mulder, "this is going a lot easier than I thought."

"So, you're attracted to me. It's a little...weird, I guess, and kind of...um, intriguing." Mulder glanced up at Krycek through veiled eyes. "How did you think this was going to go?"

"I dunno, violence, maybe? Shouting, for sure. I thought I'd get a little gun-waving at least..." Krycek paused, and then stopped what he was saying. "Wait, did you just say it was intriguing?"

Mulder nodded.

"You're actually taking me seriously, Mulder? Holy shit, write this date down," Krycek exclaimed sarcastically.

"Don't push it, Krycek. We're actually having a conversation here, if you hadn't noticed. I haven't punched, smacked, or pummeled you yet, but the night is young."

"Tease."

"Yeah, I thought so."

"What was that, Mulder?"

"That it turned you on whenever I hit you," Mulder answered.

Krycek held up his good hand in surrender. "Guilty as charged. But didn't anyone ever tell you I was bad? See the black leather?"

Mulder had to grin slightly at that.

"Soooo...intriguing, huh?"

"Didn't anyone ever tell you I slept my way to the top?" Mulder quipped.

Krycek swept his eyes up and down Mulder's form. "You look like a bottom to me," he said, smirking.

When Mulder actually blushed at the comment, Krycek's eyebrows rose.

"Mulder...all this time I've felt weird because I've been attracted to you, and now you're telling me you've been with a man before?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"A few."

"A few?!"

"Okay, like...four...but that includes Oxford and the academy."

Krycek began laughing uproariously, sputtering and coughing in between Mulder's attempts to shush him.

"Christ!" Krycek gasped, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "If I do die because of this shit, that statement will have made it all worthwhile. If I get more information, I'll send you another letter."

Krycek began to get up from the booth, but was halted when Mulder took hold of his arm.

"Krycek...Alex...thanks for this. But I wouldn't mind...meeting you again, even if you don't have more info for me."

"Mulder..."

"No, I'm serious. I would be...grateful for the company."

Krycek grinned at him. "It's lonely being the superhero, isn't it, Fox?"

Mulder scoffed. "Maybe I'm just horny," he admitted.

"Well, *that* I can certainly help you with," Krycek teased. "I'll contact you."

"When?"

"You'll know," Krycek said, and drained the rest of his beer. Turning from the booth, Krycek made his way across the darkened bar and left through the front door.

* * *

The next afternoon, Mulder received a plain white envelope through interoffice mail. Inside, a card listed a room number at the St. Regis Hotel and a time to meet, next to an artfully done rendering of an erect penis.

* * *

\-- Tuesday, August 16 --

"Scully, I have something to tell you."

She looked up from her laptop and noticed the serious look on his face. "You've got more information about what they want with the implant?"

"No, I'm still working on that. Alex hasn't received any more information."

"You're calling him Alex now?"

"That's sort of what I need to talk to you about."

"Ah."

"Yeah..." Mulder looked down, wondering how to go about telling Scully he had been sleeping with Krycek almost every day for the past week.

Yesterday he received another interoffice envelope with a typed phrase inside an illustrated red heart. It touched him to realize that for the short amount of time they had spent together, Alex Krycek was a romantic. Mulder had to look the phrase up, but the two sentences were from Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night":

O mistress mine! Where are you roaming?  
O! stay and hear; your true love's coming.

"Well?" Scully asked, drawing Mulder from his thoughts of Alex lying naked on the king-sized bed, spread over dampened silk sheets. "Just tell me, Mulder. How bad can it be?"

Mulder took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "I've...kind of been..."

Scully waited.

"Yeah?" she asked. "What? Please tell me, Mulder."

"I've been fucking Alex Krycek!" he blurted out.

After a few moments to digest that, Scully offered her stereotypical thoughtful look by raising one eyebrow. "Hmm," was all she said.

Mulder looked at her. "That's it? Just 'hmm'? Aren't you going to yell? Get angry? Tell me I'm crazy?"

Scully closed her eyes and put her feet up on the desk. "Man, I bet he's hung..."

* * *

\-- Thursday, August 18 --

"It seems she took it rather well."

They were back in the bar again, only this time the bartender offered Mulder his Jack and Coke without a scowl.

"Yeah, and then she asked me how you were in bed," Mulder replied.

"Did you show her the tape we made?"

"Yeah, but I lied and said you were good," Mulder joked.

Krycek laughed, and intertwined his fingers with Mulder's. "I love how you do that to me."

"I *am* pretty talented," he grinned.

Krycek brought Mulder's hand to his lips for a quick kiss. "Not that, but I won't argue with you. I meant making me laugh. It's been such a long time."

"I wish you would do it more often. You have a gorgeous smile."

"Stick with me, kid, and you'll see it all the time."

Mulder rubbed Krycek's knuckles and kissed the other man's hand in return. It had only been about eight days since they were first together, but it amazed Mulder how swiftly -- and eagerly -- he had fallen for this man who was once his enemy. Perhaps it was easy because they had always known it would come to this, somewhere beneath the taunts and violence.

"Not that I'm complaining, but I know you didn't call me down here to watch you smile, Alex."

"No, you're right. I found out some more about the project the cadre of doctors is working on."

Mulder took a swig from his glass, waiting for Krycek to continue.

"We've been able to identify a kill switch for the software they created to control the implants."

"Alex, that's fantastic!"

"Only problem is that I'm going to have to load the switch on-site. I've already had people working on a hack, but the network is protected, with iron-clad fail-safes and firewalls. Unfortunately, they haven't been able to get in, so the only other option is delivering the kill switch right into the mainframe."

"You can't do that alone," Mulder protested.

"Mulder, it's too dangerous..."

"No way, Alex. You're not doing this alone. Scully's my partner, and I think I have even more at stake here than you do. I'm coming with you."

"I can't ask you to do that, Mulder."

"You're not asking me. I'm *telling you* that I have your back."

Krycek grinned mischievously. "And my front."

Mulder laughed. "When is this supposed to go down?"

"My guys are tweaking the kill software. It should only be a few days -- I'll contact you the usual way when I know."

Mulder took a moment to stare at Alex, giving his lover a sultry, heated glance up and down his body. "When will I see you again, angel?"

Krycek got up and kissed the top of Mulder's head, and then whispered in his ear. "Not until we put all this behind us. But I'll be thinking about you, Fox. Especially when I'm lying in my bed at night all alone."

Mulder looked up into Krycek's eyes and gripped the back of the other man's neck, drawing him down into a lingering kiss.

"I'll be dreaming of you, too."

* * *

Two days later, on a Saturday, Mulder woke early to retrieve the morning paper from outside his door and discovered another typed piece of verse, once again from the same Shakespeare play:

That can sing both high and low.  
Trip no further, pretty sweeting.

* * *

\-- Sunday, August 21 --

Mulder was stretched out on his couch, mindlessly flipping channels. Sundays were the worst TV days, unless you enjoyed golf, NASCAR, or infomercials that suggested you could get rich by selling real estate. And unless he moved to a part of the country where the average house didn't cost upwards of $300,000, Carlton Sheets wasn't going to be able to help him.

His stomach growled, and just as he began to curse the delivery dude for being slow with his Chinese, the doorbell rang. The heavenly scent of General Tso's chicken wafted in as he opened the apartment door.

"That's $12.80," the guy said, "and this is for you, too."

He handed Mulder another plain white envelope, and Mulder knew it was from Alex.

After paying the guy, Mulder brought the bag in and set it on his coffee table, and sat down to open the letter. It was printed in Alex's neat handwriting, and at the top it said "Kill Switch." It gave the location of an office building and a time, along with a word of caution: "Bring protection."

* * *

It was about 2 a.m. that night by the time Mulder slowly made his way into the office park. He left his car hidden and went by foot to the meeting point Krycek had indicated in the note. The other man was already waiting when Mulder walked up, and despite the near total darkness, Krycek's smile was bright enough to be seen.

They exchanged a quick kiss, and then Krycek took Mulder's hand.

"Mulder...Fox...stick close to me, okay? I'm not familiar enough with this place to go searching for you if we get separated." He grinned. "If you see anything sparkly or shiny, just ignore it, all right?"

Mulder punched him playfully. "Don't worry...I'm here to watch your ass, remember? Like that's going to be difficult."

Krycek smiled and shook his head. "Okay, but once we get in there, I want to be quick and methodical. No fucking around."

"But I brought protection, like the note said," Mulder pouted, pulling out a foil-wrapped condom.

"Jesus Christ, Mulder, I'm serious."

"Sorry, sorry. We'll go in, find the mainframe, and it's done. Quick and methodical, like you said."

"All right." Krycek sighed and then leaned over, kissing Mulder deeply. "For luck."

* * *

It didn't take long to locate the large computer room. The most obvious location was the lowest part of the building, and the hacked security swipe card Krycek obtained allowed them instant access.

Krycek entered warily, with Mulder walking in backwards behind him, covering their rear. Both had their guns drawn as they stepped into the humming room, which was dimly illuminated by the tiny blinking lights of numerous servers and computer equipment.

"We need to find the access terminal."

Separating for a moment, they scanned the room until Krycek waved Mulder over. Krycek pressed the space bar to coax the monitor to life, and pressed the button to open the CD drive.

Mulder leaned over Krycek's shoulder to look at the screen, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "For luck."

The drive hungrily consumed the CD, and then the two men watched as the kill switch's progress was displayed on the screen as a slowly moving animated bar.

"It's working," Krycek sighed in relief. "Shit, c'mon, c'mon..."

"Patience, Alex. It won't take long."

Krycek looked up at him from the chair. "Then we can put all this behind us."

"Yeah, and then you can quote me Shakespeare in bed," he whispered seductively.

"What?"

"Shakespeare. The pretty lines you've been sending me, you romantic tease."

"Mulder, I never sent you anything like that."

"Oh c'mon, the verses from 'Twelfth Night' inside the red hearts?"

Krycek stared up at him, his face instantly going pale. "Mulder...are you sure they were from 'Twelfth Night'?"

"Yeah, I looked it up after I got the first one at the office, and then when I got one at home I thought..."

"Oh, God."

Just as the status bar indicated the kill switch was halfway through its destruction of the mainframe, the monitor beeped.

At the same time, two gunshots rang out, and Mulder slumped to his knees.

In the moment it took to stand and aim at the man standing behind Mulder, Krycek's kneecap exploded, and he dropped. He pushed off with his good leg and tucked into a roll, but the man was too quick. As Krycek came up into firing position he felt the bullet pierce his right side, and his gun flew from his hand.

Mulder was sitting upright, slumped against the side of the computer desk, his blood slowly pooling around his legs from the two large exit holes that had left gaping wounds in his abdomen. His hand shook when he tried to reach down and touch his shirt, but he only made grasping motions with his fingers.

"I'm bleeding, Alex," he said, looking over at Krycek with glazed eyes.

Krycek managed to use the prosthetic to heave his body next to Mulder and kissed his cheek softly.

The man who held the gun brought the weapon level with both their heads. His voice sounded almost gentle when he spoke.

"You were warned."

"Bastard!" Krycek hissed. "Mulder didn't know the significance of 'Twelfth Night'! He never told me!"

"Tol' you whuh, Alex?" Mulder mumbled.

"Shh, shh," he whispered, wiping away the blood that was trickling from the corner of Mulder's mouth.

"We had a feeling your relationship with Mr. Mulder had become intimate, Mr. Krycek. No one -- be it husband, wife, or...lover -- was to know of our plans. That much was explained to you when you entered our employ. And when we saw you together at the bar, the standard warning was issued: we gave you twelve nights to rectify this...situation...with Mr. Mulder. We never thought you'd ignore the threat."

"But he never mentioned it! Mulder didn't know that receiving the phrases was meant to be a fucking *warning*, for Chrissakes!" Krycek screamed.

"Then perhaps you should have been a little more forthcoming about your dangerous occupation during the nights you spent together in bed," the man sneered.

Krycek turned back to Mulder, who looked up at him. "God, Fox, why didn't you tell me you were getting the notes? Didn't it seem suspicious?"

"Thought you...were being romantic..." Mulder smiled weakly. "But shoul' have...realized...they were typed. Your other letters to me were h-handwritten."

Quickly, Krycek wiped his eyes with the hard plastic of the prosthesis. He then moved closer to Mulder, and eased Mulder's head down into the crook of his right arm.

"Takes me forever to type," Alex said, in between a laugh and a sniffle, and tapped the floor with his left hand.

"S-Sorry."

"Not your fault," Krycek smiled. He bent down and kissed Mulder's forehead, allowing his lips to linger.

"T-tell me the rest, A-Alex."

"The rest of what?" Krycek asked, voice muffled against Mulder's skin.

"The last st-stanza of the poem. I...I wanna hear it."

Krycek pulled him closer, using his bad arm to wrap him in an embrace. He found Mulder's lips, and gave him a slow, warm kiss.

"Close your eyes, Fox."

When Mulder did so, Krycek did the same. Then he began to recite the poem -- lines Mulder considered romantic, but words Krycek knew all too well were his undoing.

"O mistress mine! where are you roaming?  
O! stay and hear; your true love's coming,

That can sing both high and low.  
Trip no further, pretty sweeting;

Journeys end in lovers meeting,  
Every wise man's son doth know."

"Indeed," said the voice above them, firing two shots in quick succession into each prone man's head.

Then the assassin stepped over their bodies, ejected the CD, and left the room.


End file.
